Secrets
by LeMoNsOuR
Summary: There is more than just treasure buried beneath the cracked ground... there are nightmares... and a giant pair of artificial, poorly made, wooden wings. The things you can't see are the most real... :Reedited:


**Dear readers,**

**Writing this at 4 in the morning, I apologize if this story does not answer all of your questions at the end. I was writing this in a furied frenzy and I didn't read over it more than once because I was partly drunk with apple juice at the time.**

**This one-shot was taken from my other story "_Illusions_" about yet another mentally ill character. You don't have to read my other stories, but all of the stories I am writing are connected in some way or another.**

**Magnet and Squid and Caveman had not yet arrived at C.G.L.**

**Hope you like it. **

**And Review or die.**

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CAMP GREENLAKE, TEXAS

JANUARY, 1989

"SOMEBODY, HELP!"

Peter was stuck in a hole.

Again.

"Please!"

-

Being 12 years old, and only 4 feet tall gave Peter Hoffman the nickname _Peter Pan_.

And ever since he found out his sentence was two years in Camp Greenlake, he'd told everyone he was going to _fly._

"You'll see," he said, nodding his head proudly, "Just watch. I'm gonna flap my arms one day and lift off the ground like a super sum'bitch!"

They all laughed.

_Poor, poor retarded, Peter Pan._

One night, the boys of D-Tent woke up after hearing loud rustling in the darkness. They blinked, wiped the sleep from their eyes, and peered into the shadowy, obscure surrounding of the tiny tent.

"Pan, what the hell are you doing?" one of them asked groggily.

Peter was having trouble pulling something large, bulky, and mangled out from under his cot. He grunted, and tugged at it harder, but then realized that it was stuck.

The strange thing was that no one had noticed the "object" at all before. How could no one notice a giant... _thing _stuffed under a primitive cot?

"Dude? Answer my question. What the fucking hell are you doing?"

"Well, I am about to summon the Devil through a series of horribly painful rituals including stabbing myself with the bone of a rubber duckling." Peter Pan said, still struggling to pull thehuge object out from under the cot.

The boys just stared at him blankly, and stupidly.

"Gee, I didn't know you worshipped the Devil." said one who was called Zigzag.

"It was sarcasm... Actually I am a scientologist." Peter stated.

The expression on the others' faces just became even more stupid.

Sarcasm is a trait not to be used in Camp Greenlake.

"HELP ME TAKE THESE GODDAMN WINGS OUT!" cried the boy with impatience.

"Oh God...That thing is a pair of wings?" scoffed another boy who was well over weight.

"Shut up and help me." Peter said.

The boys, still groggy-eyed and tired, crowded around the Peter's cot and tried to pull out the gigantic pair of wings out of the most obvious hiding place in the world.

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"Dude, this will never work!" said X-Ray, another tent mate.

"You'll see. I'm gonna fly tonight! I know it!" sighed the skinny boy with shining eyes that always seemed to be out of focus.

They quietly slipped out of the tent, carefully dragging the pair of wings behind them.

Quiet whistling and glimpses of a flashlight could be seen in the distance where Mr. Sir was making his nightly patrol.

There was one question that was in every boy's mind that night, and it was;

_How did Peter Pan manage to find the things that made up these wings?_

They weren't really very big at all. Each wing was about the size of two arm lengths. The interior of the wings looked mechanic and resembled those of a bat.

"Hey asshole, where the fuck are you taking us?" asked another D-Tent boy named Fatlip.

Out of all the boys, Fatlip was the tallest, and the most outspoken. Oh--- and he was tall. He was, in fact, SO TALL, that the Warden had to make his orange jumper uniform specially made to fit him. No one really knew why the Warden had gone through all that trouble to keep him in Camp Greenlake, but no one cared, either.

The boys named him Fatlip because every sentence that came out of his mouth contaned some profane word or another.

"Where do you _think_ we're going, man? The Warden's cabin." Peter simply answered.

All of the boys abruptly halted.

"WHAT ARE YOU, SUICIDAL?"

Peter sighed. "Look... all my life, I've wanted to do something daring, something spontaneous and incredibly stupid. It wasn't until I got institutionalized here when I finally realized I now had the freedom to do whatever I wanted and---"

"Save us the sob story, Pippi," interrupted Fatlip, "We're going back to sleep. It's two thirty in the morning and we have to get up in an hour."

There were murmurs of agreement as the boys let go of the giant pair of wings and headed back to the direction of camp.

"No!" cried Peter softly with heartbreak, "Please. You won't get blamed for any of this. And maybe, once I learn to fly, the Warden will be so impressed with what she just saw, she'll probably end up giving us time off or something."

Some of the boys laughed... sleepily of course.

"Please, guys? Don't you even want to see what happens?" he asked in a small voice.

"You know... it's probably gonna be fun seeing your ass get kicked." X-Ray said.

A faint smile could be seen through the darkness on Peter Pan's face. It even seemed to brighten the night.

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They all stood before the Warden's cabin, which was barely two stories high. All seven of them.

No one said a word for a very long time.

"How are you going to get up there?" asked a gangly, skinny D-Tenter they called Barfbag.

"By the ladder, of course!" replied the always-cheery boy with dreams of flying. "The Warden keeps a ladder propped up against the back of her cabin to fix her T.V. antenna every once in a while... actually she makes Mr. Sir do it."

Peter Pan picked up the "wings" and disappeared behind the cabin and there was silence again.

"What if the Warden wakes up, man!" hissed Barfbag.

"We'll... play dead." Fatlip said, a smile forming across his rectangular face.

"Hey, what if the guy actually DOES fly? Do you think we can get some profit off of it?" asked Zigzag.

The one called X-Ray punched Zigzag in the ribs. Zigzag was so tired he simply slumped onto the floor, pretendingthat it hurt just so he could lie down.

"Yeah but, what if he falls? Did you think of that?" the plus-sized boy said. His name was Armpit.

There was another long vow of silence in the night air. This time, there was something in the atmosphere that seemed sinister, almost evil.

A gust of wind blew in from out of nowhere and brushed against their dirt-covered faces. It sent a chill up each and every one of their spines.

They didn't notice the silent boy standing behind them; Zero. He didn't move. Not an inch.

He inhaled the frost in the air and opened his mouth,

"Something's wrong---".

Suddenly there was a THUD.

X-Ray and Zigzag exchanged horrified glances.

They all ran to where they had heard the sound, towards the side of the cabin. It was darker there.

Much darker.

"What the---"

At first they saw nothing.

Then their eyes adjusted to the dark.

Barfbag was the first to see it.

He screamed.

Zero squeaked and shut his eyes tightly, tuning away.

Lights flicked on from one of the Warden's windows. They were caught.

But no one cared.

"No..."

There he was, crumpled onto the dust-white ground. His head was twisted and pulled at a ghastly angle.

Zigzag ran towards to kneel by the cold, stiff, lifeless entity that used to be what the world knew as Peter Hoffman.

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Dawn came very slowly, with the sun gloomily climbing onto the horizon.

A man with a balding, gray, wrinkly head explained to the Warden what had happened to Peter even though it was pretty obvious.

When the Warden came out of the cabin, only wearing stiff, duster pajamas, Armpit ripped the wings off Peter's back and hurled them into a random five-foot hole just before the Warden spotted them.

While Peter was making his way up the ladder, and across the roof, he lost his balance and fell even before he had the chance to flap his wings of glory.

People in white uniforms came in the afternoon to load his tiny body into a white truck.

And they just took him away.

No one, not even Dr. Pendanski mentioned his name.

The boys of D-Tent resumed digging their holes, each with silence.

Only when Mr. Sir arrived with the water truck that Pendanski finally realized...

"Oh my God... WHERE IS HE!"

The boys all looked up to see Pendanski heading towards Mr. Sir's parked water truck to take out a walkie talkie with fumbling hands.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Sir in a husky, rough voice/

"Louise... LOUISE!" he shouted into the walkie talkie, "Lou, he's missing!"

"_Who's missing?"_ a woman's voice screeched from the walkie talkie.

Pendanski bit his lip.

"_For Christ's sake, Pendanski, WHO THE HELL IS MISSING?"_

Suddenly Zero's voice pierced through the air like a ghost arrow.

"Fatlip. He's gone."

No once could ever find _David_ _Walker_... otherwise known as Fatlip.

They searched everywhere for months. The Warden even sent in police to find him.

But he was never found.

The Warden almost lost her mind, and none of the boys ever figured out why the disappearance of David Walker had destroyed the Warden so badly.

Why hadn't the Warden cared as much when any _other _boy had gotten hurt?

Why was she so driven to find him, this boy everyone so lovingly called Fatlip?

**A**nd the strangest thing of all, the thing that no one could figure out, and the thing that every D-Tent boy had kept to secrecy forever was that... when Armpit went back to the hole where he had thrown the wings that night, they had _disappeared_. They weren't there anymore.

The only thing he found in the hole was an orange jumper uniform specially made for someone very, VERY tall.


End file.
